Lingering Memories
by sheraccoon
Summary: History isn't full of flowers and love; It's violent, and what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that find and saves us.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Lingering Memories  
**Part:** Prologue  
**Pairing:** Russia/China, implied Sweden/Finland, implied Germany/Italy, implied Russia/US  
**Prompt:** 2007 Year of China in Russia (photograph)  
**Rating:** R

**Summary:** _History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us._

**Notes: **This was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. Up til now I realized I never finished writing the Cold War section, and to be honest I don't know if I will.

During the course of this writing, I read something about the end of the world, and I decided that Russia/China would be perfect for that concept. So yes, this fic revolves around the idea that in the last century, there had been (at least) 10 times the world could have ended – some of them were forcibly molded to fit the theme, so I apologize in advance for a few plot holes, and ineffective bad writing used to cover it up. I took an extremely serious stance with this plot – my apologies for doing so with such a happy picture.

I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

Written in Ivan's POV.

* * *

His hand was small and soft, and it fitted perfectly in mine.

He really hadn't changed. Not one bit. Not that I could tell, anyway.

I had not expected to see him, after all, he was the one person noticeably missing from Russia's own version of this celebration last year. Everyone would be flocking for the speeches, the crowds would have been ridiculous, he was probably busier than ever with China's integration into the modern world - but here he was. Yao didn't even indicate he noticed my presence, the two of us frozen in the middle of the hallway, as the crowds pushed by against our bodies, threatening to break my grip on him.

His fingers twitched gently in my hand, and he finally turned around.

"Hello, Yao," I said easily. Somehow, I felt comforted that the noisiness of the people around us drowned out the thumping of my heart. Each time our countries arranged a meeting, he was never there. Or maybe he was, but I had never seen him. Ever since the Soviet Union had been reformed into the Federation of Russia, I had not seen him once. When China had started their integration into the developed world, as perhaps a new Superpower, I started to wonder if our link had been lost. The last time I saw him was his back heading further and further away from me, the snowflakes catching in his hair in the cold Russian winter. _Is it still possible for me to say I know him?_

"Don't block the fucking way!" a voice rose from the crowd, and I was snapped back to the present time. I saw Yao glance quickly at the direction of the voice, before his fingers closed firmly around my palm.

For someone so small, Yao moved with remarkable dexterity. His fingers curled roughly around my clothes, before slamming me forcefully against the wall. The chairs around were shoved out of the way by my moving body, their contact against my legs making me wince from the pain of impact.

Yao's face was centimeters away from mine, his eyes blazing, his breaths coming in short, ragged pants. And I laughed, as I remembered the times we spent together, so long ago, as my arms were lifted from my side, and I pulled him into my body, hugging him tight.

"I miss you," I whispered. "Still do."

I heard a muffled laughed from my clothes, as Yao further buried his face into the folds of my scarf. "I know, you idiot. And you're still holding onto this stupid scarf."

"Of course," and without hesitation I pressed my lips fiercely against his.


	2. 21 August 1937

**Title:** Lingering Memories  
**Part:** World War II Era (1927-1945)  
**Pairing:** Russia/China, implied Sweden/Finland, implied Germany/Italy, implied Russia/US  
**Rating:** R

**Summary:** _History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us._

**Notes: **This was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. Up til now I realized I never finished writing the Cold War section, and to be honest I don't know if I will.

During the course of this writing, I read something about the end of the world, and I decided that Russia/China would be perfect for that concept. So yes, this fic revolves around the idea that in the last century, there had been (at least) 10 times the world could have ended – some of them were forcibly molded to fit the theme, so I apologize in advance for a few plot holes, and ineffective bad writing used to cover it up. I took an extremely serious stance with this plot – my apologies for doing so with such a happy picture.

I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

* * *

_**World War II Era (1937-1945)**_

"_I recognized his black curly hair. His helmet was blown off. All that remained was his upper torso, nude, lying across the concertina wire with his guts strewn over the wire. He must have gotten a direct hit."_

* * *

_1. 21 August, 1937; Soviet-Sino non-aggression pact_

It was the first time I saw him, and I thought I had been dreaming. Bright brown eyes caught my gaze, and the man smiled, and I felt my heart skip a beat. If this pact meant that I could see him more often, then so be it. It was just a fleeting glance, and he turned away, his small pony tail flying freely in the wind. I spent the next few hours staring at him, hoping that he would look in my direction again, but he never once did.

Those beautiful brown eyes were all I could remember when we finally left the room.

"I'm Wang Yao." I found myself staring at him, and he looked even more delectable just twelve inches away from me. "People's Republic of China." I glanced down at his outstretched hand, and back up to his smiling face, and then I wondered if I could have him smile at me for who I was, and not because I was in his mind, a client. He was still waiting, his smile never wavering.

"Ivan Braginski, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics," and I took his hand. He grasped mine briefly, fingers curling firmly around my palm, and all but a few seconds had passed before he pulled his hand away.

"I hope we will work well together," Yao said smoothly.

...

As I watched him walk away from me, it was then I knew that I wanted him.

The first time Yao willingly placed his hand over mine I had dropped the cup I was holding. He had blushed, ever so prettily, just a tinge of red on his cheeks, as he helped me pick up the shattered shards of porcelain.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and I decided that Chinese was one of the most beautiful languages I had ever heard.

My hands were shaking so violently that one of the broken piece I was holding stabbed me right through my palm. It didn't hurt, not yet, as I straightened my back, watching the dark red liquid flow slowly down my wrist, each drop a steady "drip, drip, drip" down my elbow onto the marble floor. My fingers automatically gripped the exposed edge of the glass, and I ripped it out of my flesh, my face never once betraying the pain I felt.

"What are you doing?" Yao's fingers closed painfully around my wrist. "Are you insane?"

People say I am, I tried to tell him, but Yao only ignored me.

"You are insane," and I watched him narrow his eyes in concentration as he pressed down hard to stop the bleeding. I wanted to kiss him then, and make him mine, as I have down with so many others in the past, but I didn't.

It struck me that Yao did not move away from me, as he so often did.

...

The day Germany and Japan became allies in the war, was the day I knew meant the end of the world as we knew it; Germany had his sights on Europe and the USSR, Japan had his sights on Asia. I was worried, we were all worried. Things weren't just going to get better even though the two biggest nations in the Asian region were now working together. It was a World War, and the after effects of World War I were still embedded deep in everyone's mind. Well, maybe not so much mine, but then again, who really knew?

Still, I couldn't help but feel excited. Maybe I wasn't so worried after all; maybe I was actually looking forward to this.

I heard the footsteps in the snow long before he came into my sights.

"Hi," Yao said quietly, as he settled on the bench next to me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, but all Yao did was to shuffle closer to me.

Yao shrugged. "Do you want me to go back? What point is there? If Japan chooses to invade tomorrow, we won't be prepared. If Japan chooses to invade next year, we will still lose, because all we do is wait. It doesn't matter if I'm there or here, if the world chooses to end now, it won't care where I am." He pulled his coat closer around his body. "My god, how do you survive this fucking weather?"

"I hate it," I said, my eyes watching the snowflakes drift downwards. I cocked my head towards him, a small smile on my face as I watched him frown, shaking his head as the snow collected on his hair. Yao's cheeks were flushed pink, most likely from the below freezing temperatures. "You need to wear more when you are in my country."

"Yes, and everyone has the appropriate clothes for this light snow drift," Yao said, the sarcasm clear in his voice, and it brought a small smile to my face. He tucked his hands into his coat's sleeves, and pouted. "So damn cold."

I couldn't help it, and by the time my brain had registered my actions, I found my gloved hand cupping Yao's chin gently, turning his face towards me.

"Ivan?" Yao asked uncertainly. "What are you doing?" He blushed, his cheeks turning even redder than it had been from the cold, and tried to move away instinctively.

"You're so beautiful," I muttered. What was I doing? I didn't know. But I had already come this far. "Fuck this," and I kissed him.

I could feel my heart thumping, threatening to jump out of my chest, as I slipped my hand around his neck. Yao was probably in shock, judging from his lack of movements, I was too. His lips were chapped, and slightly dry, as I adjusted the position of my mouth on them. The snowfall around us was heavier, falling in clumps now, no longer the light drizzle of ice on skin. But when Yao opened his mouth slightly, I felt as though the two of us had disappeared into the white surroundings.

_So much like a dream._

I could feel the wooden armrest of the bench bite into my back, as Yao pushed me down onto my back, crawling onto my body, never once breaking our kiss, his cold fingers drifting over my face, and he hugged me tightly, and I didn't want to let go.

Yao pressed his face against my neck, burying his nose into the scarf. "I'm scared."

We were all scared. Who wouldn't be? It could be doomsday now, tomorrow, next week, we would never know. We could only wait. I placed my hands upon his waist, holding him securely against my body. "I know." And yet, I couldn't help but feel a slight thrill, a thrill that I did not understand.

There wasn't anything more we could say. Yao's hands were icy cold, against my face, against my lips. I grabbed them, and unwinding my scarf, wrapped our bodies together, keeping his hands between mine. "The Russian winter is cold, I'm sorry," I mumbled, bumping my forehead against his.

Yao smiled gently at me, as he tugged on my scarf.

"Well, at least it isn't so cold anymore."


	3. 9 December 1937

**Title:** Lingering Memories  
**Part:** World War II Era (1927-1945)  
**Pairing:** Russia/China, implied Sweden/Finland, implied Germany/Italy, implied Russia/US  
**Rating:** R

**Summary:** _History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us._

**Notes: **This was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. Up til now I realized I never finished writing the Cold War section, and to be honest I don't know if I will.

During the course of this writing, I read something about the end of the world, and I decided that Russia/China would be perfect for that concept. So yes, this fic revolves around the idea that in the last century, there had been (at least) 10 times the world could have ended – some of them were forcibly molded to fit the theme, so I apologize in advance for a few plot holes, and ineffective bad writing used to cover it up. I took an extremely serious stance with this plot – my apologies for doing so with such a happy picture.

I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

* * *

_**World War II Era (1937-1945)**_

"_I recognized his black curly hair. His helmet was blown off. All that remained was his upper torso, nude, lying across the concertina wire with his guts strewn over the wire. He must have gotten a direct hit."_

* * *

_9 December, 1937; the Nanking Massacre _

People always thought that I wasn't too right in the mind, but I knew I wasn't. No, there wasn't anything wrong, my thoughts were rational, my actions always thought out in advance. They said all the bloodshed I had seen warped me, but I could not see how so. And yet, the sudden invasion of this man into my life, I now found myself halfway down the path of insanity.

That night I had woken up in a cold sweat, my eyes wide with fear, and my breath coming in ragged pants. The night sky was deadly silent, and the snowflakes were falling down gently. I hugged my knees to my body, trying to calm myself down, as I desperately tried to recall the vision, or a nightmare. My hands were curled into fists, fingernails biting painfully into my palm. Has it started? Were our biggest fears going to become a reality? I could call him, I wanted to know, but I didn't want to know, and I lifted my hand off the receiver. _It doesn't matter._

It didn't matter, because 30 seconds later, the telephone rang, and it wasn't him.

...

Did they know I loved him? Or did they suspect something? They must have, seeing the panic in my eyes as I barged violently into the room, hearing the first words out of my mouth to be, "Where is he?" I wasn't someone who would show his emotions so plainly, there was no need too. Most people simply backed away from me, and left me be, because they knew it was futile in trying to read me. But there was always a first time for everything.

So many things had happened in my life, I wasn't sure I could live knowing that the one person who made me capable of caring might not.

I took the first train back to Chongqing(1) and it was so empty, the streets were so quiet, it was as though the Chinese society had been destroyed and broken down. I felt a surge of hatred through my body, pumping me full of adrenaline. I never associated myself with hate, but when I saw Yao's body, I finally knew what that word meant.

He turned when he saw me, and the next thing I knew of were his arms around my body, him crying in my arms, as we sank into a heap on the ground.

Yao grabbed my hands when I tried to remove his clothing. "Please, don't be mad," he said quietly. "You mustn't be mad. Anger isn't going to help you, it isn't going to help me." I couldn't reply, because he was right. I was angry, and I was furious. I wanted to kill the person who did this to Yao, I wanted to do something, I wanted to see blood, and I couldn't just sit by and watch him suffer. Yao turned tired eyes to me. "Promise me."

I couldn't do it, keeping it, and Yao must have realized it. "I don't want any more fighting, and I don't want to see you hurt," he said, wiping his eyes. "I don't mind all these, because I was defending my people, but I don't want you getting hurt, because you were trying to avenge me. Ivan, promise me you won't interfere. Please, I'm begging you."

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice dead. I couldn't promise him, for there were no more rational thoughts in my head. It broke my heart seeing Yao in such a state, and for me to be so utterly useless. His eyes dropped to the floor, and his grip slackened on my wrist.

"I love you," he said, his voice choked. "I don't want to lose you."

And yet, I was the one who had almost lost him. I touched his cheek gently, careful to avoid the multiple cuts, before I started to unbutton his shirt. Yao flinched as my hands brushed against his skin, but he didn't move. If I thought I was prepared for what was below the fabric, I wasn't. I hadn't expected Yao to not even bother dressing his injuries, leaving them exposed to the filthy, polluted air. As I stood up to take the bandages off the table, I noticed the full length of the wound down his back, very much liked the skin had been sliced open by the blade of a Samurai's sword.

"I can't believe you told me not to step in," I said bitterly, clutching the dressings in a death grip. "You expect me to sit by, and watch him while he breaks you, bit by bit?"

"It's war," Yao said simply. "There are casualties. You have casualties too. It's not going to end today, and it's not going to end tomorrow. We don't know when it's going to end. It's not something you want continuing, but it's not something you can do about. They call it a World War for a reason."

"It's something that you hate, because you can't do anything about it," I said flatly. "It's something that brings out the animal instincts in you, because you know you need to survive. It's something that steals the people you love away from you, and you can only watch in silence." I knelt in front of Yao's hunched figure, holding his hand. "Whatever you need, you know I'll be there."

He touched my cheek gently, a sad smile on his face. "You know you can't keep that promise." He slowly removed his hand from mine. "I love you, Ivan."

I couldn't understand what he meant. Maybe I just didn't want to.

...

I was a fool to believe that the invasion of Japan into Nanking was the worst they could come up with. It didn't matter that Yao left, wounds disregarded, to return to the war front. He was an idiot, but I was the bigger idiot. Why was I still sitting here, safe in the hearts of Chongqing City, while he dragged his body back down to the capital? Oh right, I thought bitterly, that's because he shoved me off the train onto the platform, his people holding me back while the train moved off. That's why I'm here; that's why he's there.

The streets were quiet, and I could sense the fear in the air. Those still willing to wander outside gave me strange looks as I walked down the almost empty roads, and I wondered why. It couldn't be that I wasn't Chinese, for there had been so many non-Asians in the country, from the British, to the French, to us Soviets. Okay fine, so I looked a little intimidating, but I was having a bad d- I felt a small tug on the edge of my overcoat, and I looked down to see a small Chinese girl holding on to me, a little panda stuffed toy in her arms. I knelt down in front of her, placing my hand on her head. God, she reminded me so much of Yao.

"You're smiling," she said cheerfully, her large brown eyes blinking innocently at me. "You aren't really as scary as you look, are you?"

_Smiling? What was she talking about?_ My fingers touched my lips hesitantly, as though I was almost afraid to find out. I was smiling, but for the love of God, I knew not why. She was still looking expectantly at me, but then she smiled.

"Are you here to save us? You will stop all this killing, will you? Mummy cries every night waiting for Daddy to come back, and I can't wait for the day when he tucks me in to bed again! You see this? Daddy gave him to me before he left. He said he'll be back soon. You'll bring him back, will you?" She hugged my leg, and I was taken aback. "You'll do it, won't you?"

I slowly eased my leg out from her tight grasp, and I glanced down at the small figure. She smiled once more, and ran off into the streets. Save them? How could I? I couldn't even save myself. I couldn't even save one person, how could I save everyone else? I couldn't even save Yao, let alone help him. Everything that I had wanted to do, I couldn't, and that fact had not escaped Yao's perception. The sound of a gunshot pierced through the silent skies, and I glanced up, curious, before I looked away in horror. I could see the curious faces from the windows, and I could hear the screams, but all that really remained in my memory was the dark red liquid merging into the stones paving the road.

So much blood, why was there so much blood? How could such a small body contain so much blood? I took a step forward, and lifted my eyes.

There was a small man standing in the distance, and as our eyes met, I felt a hatred I never though I would ever feel. I watched that emotionless face holster his gun, dark eyes catching mine, and I could see the sheathed katana hanging by his side. It seemed almost real, my imagination, and I could just see that long, cruel blade striking down mercilessly upon Yao's back, before the shock and pain even registered on his face. I could see it, and I could see Yao on his knees, defeated, before he was left to die.

He stared at me silently for a while, and I stood there, meeting his gaze evenly. This was the man that I was going to kill.

He dropped his gaze, and turned away.

When I saw Honda Kiku take the girl's life in cold blood, I knew that it was over. Japan had broken through China's main defenses – they had lost Nanking. I walked wordlessly up to the small collapsed figure, still lying in her blood; her hands never once lost their grip on the toy. Her face had been disfigured beyond recognition, just a mass of blood, skin and bone, the bullet having been fired from close range, blowing through her right temple. _She never even saw it coming_, I thought bitterly. _She never even had a chance to scream._

I knelt down next to her, her blood staining my clothes, and I picked her lifeless body up. I had seen too much blood shed the in the last century, and it wasn't going to end. I could see the blood stains on my clothes, and I could see the drops of blood left behind as I walked away.

I could almost imagine that it was Yao in my arms.

...

"You're smiling," Yao said weakly. He clung weakly onto my clothes, his hand grabbing my scarf in his fist. "Should I be afraid of what morbid thoughts are running through your head?"

_What are you asking, Yao? _"Should you?" I shrugged, tightening my grip on his body. Yao looked up curiously at me.

"I don't know. What's up?"

'The irony of life, is that we really never get to live," I tilted my head downwards, smiling serenely at him. "Just look at our states. Look at you, I found you half alive this afternoon, your arm broken, your body broken, and my heart broken. Look at me; I don't even know what I'm doing any more. Why am I doing this, I don't know. Why did I choose to be with the Allies, and not with the Axis Powers? I don't know. What am I doing with my life, I don't know." I let my hand rest gently upon Yao's head, my fingers brushing his cheek. "I wished I had been there to save you, or maybe die with you."

_It had been a massacre._

I felt Yao's lips gently on my cheek, his good arm wrapping around my body. "I don't want you to die," he said simply.

"Neither do I," I said. I turned to face him on the bed, watching him close his eyes, watching him fall asleep. I was terrified, and this feeling scared me. I shouldn't be the one terrified, I had seen enough for me not to care. But I was terrified that maybe one day, Yao would be gone from my side.

I watched the rise and fall of Yao's chest in silence. I was tired with all this violence, and I was tired with just sitting by and waiting. Everyone was useless, even me, and why should that be the case? My hand drifted to the pistol rested next to my head, and I lifted it up, staring at it.

_The only way to save everything I loved, was to kill everyone else._

I didn't need God's forgiveness.

He wouldn't forgive me.

Yao was the reason I finally understood what it meant to love somebody, and Yao was the reason for my brain to finally snap, if it hadn't already. If the only way for me to save him and his people was for me to become stronger than all, then that was what I had to do. It didn't matter that I had to sell my soul to the Axis Powers; if it meant that Yao would be saved, I would do anything.

...

I had my eyes set on the Scandinavian states; Finland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark. Finland would be simple to crush, I believed. And when Finland was mine, Sweden would follow. All because I knew from memory that Berwald would do anything for Tino, for the reason that in a sense, he was so much like me.

Just like what I'm willing to do for Yao - no matter how atrocious it was, how much of a sin it was, I would do it. Even murder, even total annihilation.

I stared at the documents in front of me, the plans highlighting the routes into Poland; the military artillery involved, and my mouth curved into a smile, as my pen paused briefly above the approval line.

_I'm so sorry, Yao. But like you said, it is war._

* * *

1 Chongqing City became the later capital of China when Nanking was taken over by the Japanese. I thought it appropriate to use as a HQ location outside of Nanking.


	4. 1939 to 1940

**Title:** Lingering Memories  
**Part:** World War II Era (1927-1945)  
**Pairing:** Russia/China, implied Sweden/Finland, implied Germany/Italy, implied Russia/US  
**Rating:** R

**Summary:** _History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us._

**Notes: **This was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. Up til now I realized I never finished writing the Cold War section, and to be honest I don't know if I will.

During the course of this writing, I read something about the end of the world, and I decided that Russia/China would be perfect for that concept. So yes, this fic revolves around the idea that in the last century, there had been (at least) 10 times the world could have ended – some of them were forcibly molded to fit the theme, so I apologize in advance for a few plot holes, and ineffective bad writing used to cover it up. I took an extremely serious stance with this plot – my apologies for doing so with such a happy picture.

I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

* * *

_**World War II Era (1937-1945)**_

"_I recognized his black curly hair. His helmet was blown off. All that remained was his upper torso, nude, lying across the concertina wire with his guts strewn over the wire. He must have gotten a direct hit."_

* * *

_3. 1939-1940; the Winter War between Finland and Russia_

"I hate you," he said.

_No, you don't. _We stood apart, him staring at me, trying to maintain his calm, whereas I could see that he was on the brink of shooting me. My eyes dropped briefly towards his holstered pistol, and I wondered what it would be like, for Yao to unsheathe it, and pull the trigger at my body. There was nothing that I could explain that he didn't already know; I signed the alliance with Germany, we invaded Poland, and now I had turned back to Finland.

When I saw the fear in Tino's eyes, despite the brave front he put up, it only served as fuel to know that I was going to break him. It was as though the idea that I could conquer the whole world was taking over my brain, and I understood why Germany did it. Why he followed the ideology of Adolf Hitler.

Except, it wasn't about greed. If only I could explain it to him, I was sure he would understand. Yao was the only person who could probably understand me.

"You don't understand, do you?" I said, a small smile on my face.

Yao took a step further away from me. "I don't know you who are anymore."

We were- no, I was surrounded by countries that were so much stronger than me. There was Britain, there was France, there was Germany, and in the west, there was America. I could no longer sit back and leave the fate of my country in their hands; I had to show them that Russia was not someone to be trifled with.

And then, there was China.

I raised my eyes towards him, and I smiled sadly at him. "You have no idea what you've done to me, do you?"

From the moment I laid eyes on Wang Yao, he had consumed my life, and I had allowed myself to fall for him. There was just a simple explanation for everything – I loved him. And Yao was scared of me, I could see it. When I took a step towards him, he took a step back. His fear, it amused me, why was he afraid?

"No, it's not me. It's you," Yao finally said slowly. "I've sat by, watching you and your antics, and I never did step in to stop you."

Why? I wanted to ask, but I didn't know what I wanted to know from that. The blood empowered me, and gave me the strength to go on in the war. It was a war, after all, even Yao had said that. There was no better time than now to take advantage of countries who did not want to step in and be involved.

"It's not Japan who's slowly breaking me apart, it's you."

_And it's not the war that's taking over my mind, it's you,_ the desperate thought ran through my mind. Yet all I did was to watch him back away, his eyes breaking contact with mine for the first time since we've been together. And he ran.

…

I never once expected Finland to put up such a strong resistance. Futile, though, for with our superior numbers we should have easily crushed them. But, Tino was no longer the dependant man I once looked upon. No, he wasn't the small, weak man who had once succumbed to me, who had allowed me to drag him away from the man he loved. But Berwald... That man confused me. As I stood silently in the snow, the whiteness of the surroundings tainted black and red, I saw the dark blue uniform of the Swedish military in the distance. I kept silent, until I heard the crunch of snow under his boots. _Interesting._

"Hello," I said, almost amiably, still staring out into the blinding white landscape. I didn't have to turn around, I knew he was looking at my body. "I have lost weight, haven't I?"

I wasn't expecting Berwald to even acknowledge my presence, after all, Tino was a very sensitive topic between the both of us, and he avoided all contact with me if possible.

"'Allo, Ivan," he said, as stiff as ever, and I hid a smile. Somehow, it amused me that out of everyone I knew, Berwald was probably the only person who really knew all sides of me. He knew what it was like to lose the person you loved, and he knew what it was like to never truly get them back. He knew what it was to stand back, and watch them fight for their life, because there was no way you could intervene. _Politics, huh_, I thought sardonically. _It's something that governs us, yet it's something that prevents us from doing anything. It's the reason why Yao and I - no, it was not. _

"Heard about Yao?"

"I've read the news." I wasn't expecting him to say he was sorry, or for him to show his sympathies. I was just intriged by the fact that he willingly stopped to talk to me, and I wanted to know why. Berwald's eyes were as cold as mine, but I noticed that he took a small step backwards when I took a step towards him. "I guess I've become like you." He took my silence as an indication to continue.

"Standin' by and doin' nothin'. 'S not because we can't, but because we try 's hard, it becomes impossible." His cold blue eyes stared up at me, and yet, behind the cold façade, I could just see the smallest hints of pity, and it annoyed me.

Why was he feeling pity for me? Even I didn't pity myself – I believed that if I just took things step by step, they would work out. Just like how that small Chinese girl had felt: Her father leaving to protect them, us Allies apparently coming to save them. Everything was just a series of events.

"You're going to lose him," Berwald said quietly "No matter how much you try, you'll discover that everything you do, 's never enough."

I held my gaze evenly at him, smiling gently all the while. It was as though this smile had become my mask, and the whole world was a masquerade ball; everyone hiding behind a disguise, a front they put up for people to see, and not for people to really know.

Was that how Yao treated me as well? Was everything we've been through only because he only wanted something else, something higher?

I smiled once more at Berwald, his eyes watching me intently all the while, and I was so sure he could see through my very soul. I turned away towards the white horizon, walking off into the distance. "Thank you." I looked back at him, and there was no more smile on my face. "But that will not change anything."

I knew he would not have the guts to kill me.

…

"Ivan?"

The pistol on my desk was so intriguing – I wrapped my fingers around it, my thumb resting lightly against the safety catch. What was it like to die? I kept on telling myself that I would do anything for Yao, even die for him, but what was it like? What was death? Or perhaps, who was Death? So many times I had taken lives in cold blood, so many times have I seen people die, but I never once stopped to wonder what would it be like to take your own life.

"What are you doing?" Yao demanded, grabbing my wrist, glaring at me. "Put that thing away, you idiot, you're going to get someone killed."

Such a small weapon, yet such a deadly weapon. I had loaded a solitary bullet into the chamber this morning, after my small talk with Berwald. I was curious now, what was Death like? Was he really as mysterious as everyone made him be? Was he really as terrible as everyone seemed to think so? _Who really knew Death, anyway?_ I pulled my hand calmly away from Yao.

"Say you love me," I said cheerfully. "Go on, Yao. Do you love me?" My thumb flicked the safety off.

"Ivan, put that thing down," Yao said carefully. "You don't know what you're doing."

He was just so beautiful. How could a man so beautiful be so cold towards others at the same time? Did he really love me, or was he just using me? If anything, I should be the one using him, because I was. But now, I wasn't so sure. I wanted to know, I needed to know. I looked evenly at Yao.

"Do you love me?"

"Don't do anything stupid, Ivan!" I could just see the faintest hint of panic building up in Yao's body; the way his eyes widened, and his hand gripping his shirt tightly.

"There's only one bullet," I smiled. "There's a one in six chance that I'll die. It's probably better odds than if I go out there, into the freezing winter, and meet Tino's troops head on." It was thrilling, the fact the my life was entirely in my control now. Or maybe not, as I spun the chamber, hearing the "click, click, click" as it rotated in its place. "Answer me."

"Ivan," Yao said desperately. "Don't do this."

_I'm not even making you choose_. My eyes narrowed, the smile slipping off my face, and I could see that Yao now knew that I was serious.

"I love you," my voice was barely above a whisper, as I placed the mouth of the pistol against my forehead. I wanted to know, it was only just 3 words.

I pulled the trigger, as I heard them, but the gunshot simply drowned Yao's voice out.

There was a 16.67% chance that the gun will fire, and I could see the horror on Yao's face when he realized it was too late. But all I heard was an empty click, and Yao collapsed against my desk, tears running down his face. I was sorry, and yet I was not. If I never once questioned the idea that I might honestly be messed up, I now did. Russian roulette was something I had seen my compatriots try, for fun, or to prove their bravery, but never had I expected it to give me such a thrill. There was a loud "clang" as I lost my grip on the pistol.

"You're the first person I've ever loved." Chinese was a beautiful language, but it sounded heavenly when Yao whispered it. Leaning over the desk, I pulled his body over the table, and I hugged him tightly, never wanting to let go.

I, Ivan Braginski, wasn't someone who cried easily, but as I felt Yao's fingers tighten around my shirt, I did.


	5. 1941 and 1944

**Title:** Lingering Memories  
**Part:** World War II Era (1927-1945)  
**Pairing:** Russia/China, implied Sweden/Finland, implied Germany/Italy, implied Russia/US  
**Rating:** R

**Summary:** _History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us._

**Notes: **This was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. Up til now I realized I never finished writing the Cold War section, and to be honest I don't know if I will.

During the course of this writing, I read something about the end of the world, and I decided that Russia/China would be perfect for that concept. So yes, this fic revolves around the idea that in the last century, there had been (at least) 10 times the world could have ended – some of them were forcibly molded to fit the theme, so I apologize in advance for a few plot holes, and ineffective bad writing used to cover it up. I took an extremely serious stance with this plot – my apologies for doing so with such a happy picture.

I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

* * *

_**World War II Era (1937-1945)**_

"_I recognized his black curly hair. His helmet was blown off. All that remained was his upper torso, nude, lying across the concertina wire with his guts strewn over the wire. He must have gotten a direct hit."_

* * *

_4. 1941; German Invasion of the Soviet Union, 1944; fall of Rome_

I felt the cold metal against the back of my head, and I stopped. I was in the middle of a road, a quiet road, and as my eyes drifted to the black gloved hands, I knew who it was, but I did not understand.

"Hello, Ludwig," I said pleasantly. "Are you here to kill me, before I get a chance to kill Honda?"

"Whether you kill him or not, it doesn't concern me," Ludwig's voice was like a dagger in the quiet night. "I don't care."

I heard the flick of the safety catch on his gun, as he twisted the front of the gun cruelly into my temple. It no longer mattered that I had been taken by surprise, that it had been Ludwig to take me by surprise. I had let down my guard. It had been my mistake.

Ludwig was someone I never really understood – he played by the rules to the absolute detail, and I could not understand how he agreed to the alliance between his country and Feliciano's. The two were polar opposites, but as Yao liked to say, opposites attract. He was also the only person to not treat me as though as I was a ticking time bomb, and that was the issue that threw me off completely.

"What is this?" I placed my hand upon my holstered pistol, but I knew it did not mean anything. If Ludwig chose to ignore me, and fire the gun, I would die.

"A change in the game-" I threw my body back against him, feeling his gun knock into my head painfully, feeling him stagger under my weight, pushing away from him, and the two of us turned around, guns pointed at each other.

"I guess this means our alliance is over," I smiled – but there was no sincerity in that smile. I could feel the trickle of warm blood down the side of my head, dripping into my eye, blurring my vision, from where it had cracked open against Ludwig's piece. _I might die._ My eyes flickered briefly to his trigger finger, and I pulled the safety on my own.

I didn't hate Ludwig the way I hated Honda, but I had no intention of dying at his hands. "And that now you've given me the choice to kill you."

"No," Ludwig finally said, breaking the silence between us. "You won't kill me." I stared into his bright blue eyes, the only thing that could be seen in the dark streets, barely illuminated by the street lamps. "You won't kill me, because if you do, you will have to kill Wang Yao (1) ."

I was stunned. "Kill... Yao?" I watched Ludwig's mouth curve up emotionlessly. _What...? _And I knew I had fallen for it.

"He's your Achilles' heel, Ivan. You know it." I watched his index finger depress the trigger, and I knew it was too far gone. "Goodbye, Ivan."

I felt the pain before I pulled my trigger in reflex.

_Both of us should have died that night. _

…

The pain was excruciating.

Was this what hell was like? I fought to keep my eyes open, pushing my body up, only to gag on my own blood. I could see the darkening area on my clothes, the ends of my scarf becoming almost black. There was so much blood… So much blood…

The streets splattered with blood, blood from civil wars, blood from innocent civilians; except now, it was my blood. It was my blood that stained my hands, it was my blood that I was choking on. I gasped, reaching under my coat, searching for the wound, but only for my gloved hand to become drenched in my own blood.

Did I miss Ludwig? I couldn't see him – it was just me and my agony left. I rolled onto my back, teeth gritted in pain, as I tried to remove my scarf, tried to press it down against my abdomen. I was sure something important had been hit, Ludwig wasn't someone to miss, oh god – I couldn't think any more.

I could see a dark figure in the distance and when he approached, I could make out the bright blue eyes, and I knew that I had.

I never got a chance to tell Yao how much I loved him.

…

_Such efficient killing machines_.

I stared silently out into the whiteness of the streets.

_That's why they're winning this war. That's why I was taken by surprise._

I laughed silently, shaking my head in disgust. _Ivan, you were meant to die._

Was there never going to be an end to the river of blood? Was this going to continue until one of us killed the other? I could still feel the pain from the two bullets Ludwig put in my body, I could still feel the pain from when they were extracted from my conscious body. They said I had not screamed, but I was screaming in my mind.

There was a body blocking the door way. Yao looked up, his irritation clear on his face. "What are you doing," he demanded. It was an order, not a question. It infuriated me.

"What are you doing here," I said quietly, and Yao backed away immediately.

"You're injured. I'm making sure you don't go out there as a walking goose for Ludwig," he said defensively. "Look, I'm just concerned, alright?"

"And you should be. There will be blood in the street today."

"Ivan, you're scaring me."

I lost it. "Ivan this, Ivan that, stop getting in my way, Yao. Look at what happened to me, I let myself become too lax, I almost got my whole country destroyed by someone I actually thought I trusted!" My voice sounded eerily calm, even to me. "Get out of my way."

I really thought he'd move. Yao was so frightened, his brown eyes wide with fear, but he took one step up to me. "No."

"Don't think I won't kill you just because you mean something to me," I warned, loosening my gun from its holster. _Move, Yao, I don't want to hurt you._

"Fine, kill me," Yao said stubbornly. "I'm not moving."

That stopped me right in my tracks. "Don't try me, Yao." But even I wasn't so sure anymore. It was a fit of anger, and I scared myself. Was I capable of taking Yao's life?

_You won't kill me, because if you do, you have to kill Wang Yao._

I didn't know.

…

I once thought that signing the Nazi-Soviet pact was equivalent to selling my soul to the devil, I was wrong.

Selling my soul was accepting help from America and Britain, selling my soul was agreeing to allow Alfred and Arthur to interfere. I was now tied down by their wants, but right now, they seemed to be perfectly acceptable in my mind: _Get Germany out of the Soviet Union, I'm glad we all have a common understanding._

So why didn't they just finish the Second Front (2) then? There they were, saying again and again that yes they would do it, yes we were allies, what were they doing, actually? Do something, I tell them; we are, they reply; but nothing has been done.

"_I'm not trying you, Ivan, I need you to see reason," Yao said sadly. "I'm not going to stop you from killing Ludwig, but you can't. If you need to kill someone before you're somewhat sane again, kill me."_

_He placed his hand gently over mine, pulling out both my hand and my gun. _

Yao.

_I had stared at him silently, both of us had stared at each other silently. It was the first time I had seen Yao so defiant, so certain of what he wanted to do. _

If they weren't going to do anything, it would appear that the only person I could trust, was myself.

"_Shoot me," Yao challenged._

I wasn't even sure if I could take _him_ seriously anymore.

_When I took that step towards him, my face unreadable, I fully expected him to break down and give in. But he didn't. Yao looked me straight in the eye, not blinking, and placed his life in my hands._

"_I don't have to." I said, and I simply walked away from him._

There was no one to trust, only myself. Not even Yao. If I had to kill him for this war to end, I would.

…

5 June 1944 (3) was the day that would forever be embedded in my memory, and finally, the Allies were doing something.

I felt a hand hold me back, and I turned around. Yao looked soundlessly at his feet, and I took his hand gently. "We've come to the end. It'll be over soon. Hang in there."

I could barely feel his fingers through the cloth of my gloves, but I would feel him squeeze my hand, before he finally let go. Yao looked sadly at me, and I was surprised to see him crying, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He was scared, and he was finally showing it to me. "Come back, alright?"

My fingers wiped the tear tracks off his cheek gently, cupping his face in the palm of my hands.

"I promise," I smiled, before pulling him into a desperate embrace, my arms around his body protectively, Yao's hands holding onto my neck, our mouths meeting each other's fiercely. For everything that has happened in my life, Yao was the only good thing to appear. As I felt him press back against me, just for a minute, I could almost forget what was going to happen.

I kissed him gently one last time, just a slight brush against his lips. "Wait for me." I felt my clothes slip out his grasp.

America and Britain made their final march into Rome.

…

War might have changed so many of us, it changed me too, but I couldn't let it rule my life. I stared down at a sobbing Feliciano, and I couldn't kill him.

I couldn't kill him.

I had dreamed of the very day that I would be the one to break Ludwig down, after everything he had done to me. Germany was no longer a threat to Soviet Russia, not anymore, and now, I had my chance for revenge. But when I pointed the gun at a terrified Feliciano, I discovered that I could not do it.

Ludwig only stared at me, and I would never forget his eyes – from the cold blue eyes I once remembered, to that of despair. He looked down, almost sadly, and he threw down his gun. And now, I understood. If I had pulled the trigger, it wouldn't make me worse than any of them. Ludwig was willing to stand by and watch me kill Feliciano, and I knew I would have been willing to stand by and watch Ludwig kill Yao.

I should have killed him, I would have killed him, but ever since I met Yao, I was no longer the Ivan Braginski I thought I was. I had seen too much bloodshed in my life, I had been through too many wars. It had broken me, and I had thrived on the terror of other people. But for this war, it was no longer about fighting for the ones we loved – it was fighting for our own survival; even if it meant sacrificing all those close to us.

I glanced down at my blood stained hands, as I remembered Yao's closing over them, holding them, smiling at me. I sunk down to my knees, and I cried.

It was over.

* * *

1 Sino-German cooperation only ceased in 1941, when Germany officially recognized the Wang Jingwei government, one of the puppet states of the Japanese during their occupation in Nanking. Before this, the Soviet Union allowed the Germans to use Soviet railways to transport materials from China to Germany. Sino-German cooperation existed in the hopes that Germany could mediate a peace treaty between China and Japan, which failed after the Nanking incident.

2 The Second Front was meant to be stationed in France, as an alternative way for the allies to counterattack the German invasion into Soviet territory, and also to relieve the pressure of the Russians facing Germany by themselves. However, there were many disagreements, and the Second Front never did materialize. This is important as it was a source of disagreement all the way into the Cold War, for it raised mutual suspicions between Russia and America.

3 June 6, 1944 was the day when the Allies finally cracked the German line of defense in Italy, and marched into Rome (Capital of Italy). Technically, this war only involved America, Britain, Germany and Italy allies and forces, but for the sake of Russia/China, Russia got involved too. Besides, it's not technically historically incorrect, because while America and Britain attacked Germany via Italy, the Soviet Union pushed back against German intervention from their own country.


	6. 1945: End of WW2

**Title:** Lingering Memories  
**Part:** World War II Era (1927-1945)  
**Pairing:** Russia/China, implied Sweden/Finland, implied Germany/Italy, implied Russia/US  
**Rating:** R

**Summary:** _History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us._

**Notes: **This was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. Up til now I realized I never finished writing the Cold War section, and to be honest I don't know if I will.

During the course of this writing, I read something about the end of the world, and I decided that Russia/China would be perfect for that concept. So yes, this fic revolves around the idea that in the last century, there had been (at least) 10 times the world could have ended – some of them were forcibly molded to fit the theme, so I apologize in advance for a few plot holes, and ineffective bad writing used to cover it up. I took an extremely serious stance with this plot – my apologies for doing so with such a happy picture.

I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

* * *

_**World War II Era (1937-1945)**_

"This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." -Winston Churchill (November 10, 1942)

* * *

_5. 1945; End of World War II and the Start of the Cold War_

I saw the white rise of smoke in the distance. And I looked away, because I knew that he had done it. It didn't matter how many people would be saved, it was still killing more people. Sometimes, I confused myself too; one minute I would be mercilessly killing innocent civilians, the next I would be wondering if there was any way to prevent more killings.

But Alfred did the one thing that none of us could. And for that, I respected him. No matter how many times I said that I wanted to kill Honda Kiku, I could never do it. I couldn't even kill Feliciano, Ludwig, Tino… I couldn't even keep a promise to Yao. He had always been there for me, and I had never been there for him. If I ever once doubted that Yao loved me, I deserved to go to hell.

Alfred may not have killed him, but he brought the war to a brutal end. That was all we actually needed; someone who would be willing to step out of line, someone who knew that the only way to stop the killings was to kill enough.

But what was enough? I remembered Yao's body, the long cruel split down his back; I remembered Tino, eyes hardened, unwilling to back down, his blood staining the white blanket red; I remembered Feliciano, fallen in defeat as Ludwig watched me stand over him, my shaking hands on the gun; and myself, my own scars, my own crimes, my own near death experience. Who had to die before everything would end?

How many more atomic bombs did America have to drop before everything would stop? Did he have to kill every one of us before the war would end? Did it really have to come down to nuclear war?

Japan would probably surrender.

But it should not even have had to take two.

…

"Ivan?"

I didn't want to talk to Alfred right now, and I was ready to throw the telephone right back onto the receiver. That idiot got his 'heroic act' which the whole world probably loved him for; the whole world except me, maybe.

"Don't hang up on me, stupid," Alfred sighed. And in a move I'd regret for the rest of my life, I didn't. "Listen, Ivan, I think we need to sort out a few things."

"I suppose you want me to congratulate you," I said. "Alright, congratulations. The world now sees you as a hero."

"Well, yes, obviously, but that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about," Alfred sounded impatient. But I was more impatient. There was someone waiting for me. "Look, we clearly had some issues during the war, but now that it's over-"

"Are you offering to settle your useless promises now? Why should I need them? I was fine by myself," I interrupted, annoyance in my voice. "No matter how many times you promised to help, you were more content sitting down and watching Ludwig and I tear each other apart, weren't you?"

"No, wait, that wasn't our intention-" But I cut him off, again.

"I can forgive, but I am not going to forget. Remember that, Alfred," my voice was low, and I was angry. No one cared what happened to the Soviet Union during World War II. No, we were left on our own, without the aid promised. Everyone else was just too busy trying to make a name for themselves, and Alfred, he was the only one who really succeeded. His democracy versus my communism, we were so bloody different, in history and in thinking.

"Germany is no longer an issue, so isn't that your goal achieved?" I tried to control my voice from rising, but I couldn't. "You've got what you wanted, savor it Alfred, because things aren't going to be so easy from now on."

"Damn you, Ivan, what are you talking about?" Alfred said, and I could hear just the bare hints of a building panic. I could almost imagine him pacing around, worrying his mind over what I was talking about. In all honesty, I didn't really understand myself either, but that could wait. There was someone waiting for me.

"I have more important things to do. Goodbye, Alfred."

…

He knew I'd be there, and I knew he'd be waiting. Yao flew towards me, his pony tail floating in the cold wind, before he was hugging me, his tears flowing down freely. "Ivan, Ivan, Ivan," he whispered my name over and over again. "It's finally over." It was, and we were still both alive.

I lifted his small body easily into my arms, twirling him around in the warm summer weather, so very different from the cold winter all of us had been through, with hope fading day by day. But now, Yao was smiling at me, his smile which I had not seen for a long time, his arms wrapped tightly around my neck, allowing me to slowly bend down and kiss him.

What didn't kill us only served to make us stronger, and I only loved Yao more than ever. I felt his arms tighten around my body, his fingers gripping my shoulder almost painfully, and was more of a dream than anything else – we were both still alive.

And maybe things could go back to normal, although, I didn't really know what normal was anymore.

…

I felt his arms around my body, his lips so close yet so far. I didn't want to be teased, but Yao only laughed at me. He undid the rubber band holding back his hair, the dark tresses falling down his shoulders, as he positioned himself on top of me. There wasn't any more logical thoughts in my brain, as my body burned with desire, and I allowed my fingers to slip up his slender frame, but Yao grabbed hold of my gloved hands.

"Take off your gloves," he mumbled, cracking an eye open. "I want to feel your hands; I want to see your hands. I might never have a chance again." I watched him quietly as he pulled the dark leather off, as he placed my bare hands upon his face. "I love you."

I pulled his head down towards mine, my fingers holding firmly onto his neck, as I trailed my tongue over his skin - from the edge of his lips, to the lobe of his ear. After all the time I spent waiting for him, he was finally mine.

This wasn't something I could have prepared for, because when Yao kissed me almost painfully, I was no longer thinking clearly, only allowing myself to drown in him. As he slipped out of his shirt, I could see the scars on his chest, barely healed, and the long cruel slash across his spine, reminding me of my lack of ability to protect him, even when I had promised I would. But in the end, he had been the one who ended up protecting me. I felt his body shiver as I traced the scar down to his hips, moving slowly, deliberately. His fingers gripped my shoulder painfully, and he rested his head against the crook of my neck.

"Yao." I pressed a hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed. Yao smirked, as he pulled my scarf away, drawing a finger down my exposed body, past the scars, touching each one of them gently, placing his hand upon the darker patch on my abdomen where Ludwig had almost taken my life.

"You have no idea how long I've waited," he said, as he leaned forward, and I could feel the contact of our slick skin together. I held his forearms tightly, kissing him once more, and then we made love.

It was just our little haven together, escaping from all the violence we had experienced, all the violence we had caused, I had caused. I buried my face in Yao's neck, feeling his hair sweep by my cheeks. My teeth grazed along his collarbone, biting gently at the base of his neck, my hands holding him protectively, never wanting to let go. Yao's fingers gripped the nape of my neck almost painfully, and slowly cupped my face, blunt fingernails scraping against my cheeks. It was all but a small motion, but I could feel a comfortable tingle, radiating down my body.

I wanted the world to end now, as Yao smiled down at me, his eyes glistening through his tears. I didn't know what tears they were, and I didn't want to know. Yao was practically quivering in my arms, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, as he sought out my mouth in the dark. He missed once, twice, before our mouths found each other, clumsy and frantic, desperate and needing, wet and salty.

My body was flooded with sensations, each as quick as our breaths together: Yao's thighs tightening around my waist, his hands clinging on desperately, as one arm curved around my neck, fingers biting painfully into my skin as he barely hung on; Yao's lashes against my cheek, fluttering in the midnight breeze; warm liquid along my chest, as Yao shuddered uncontrollably in my arms; salty drops between our lips, a mixture of tears and sweat.

"I love you," and I wasn't sure if he said it, or I said it. Either way, words no longer mattered to me, because he was finally mine.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And this concludes the end of the WW2 era! :3 I actually found my notes for the Cold War Era (a lot of them, wow), and the original various drafts that I did. If, and if, I continue writing, it appears to be in another 5 parts, all the way up to the end of the Cold War, and the collapse of the Soviet Union. There's a bunch of Russia/Prussia, and a lot of Prussia, because I find Russia/Prussia stupidly hot. We'll see where that goes! If you really want me to write, please let me know in a review or comment! Who knows, maybe I want to finish this too. ;)

Thank you all for reading!


	7. 1945 to 1949: The Cold War

**Title:** Lingering Memories  
**Part:** Cold War Era (1945-1991)  
**Pairing:** Russia/China, implied Russia/US, implied Russia/Prussia, implied US/China  
**Rating:** R

**Summary:** _History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us._

**Notes: **The first part, the WW2 era section, was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

This is the second part of the original idea. I am not going to focus as much on America's foreign policy here (or I will really go on a tirade), but instead I am opting to focus on the internal politics of the USSR. I will put up appropriate warnings as I complete each part. Also, I'm pretty sure my writing style has changed since I first wrote the WW2 section, but I'm doing my best to imitate so that the feeling of the story changes as little as possible. Please enjoy, and maybe leave me a review! There's always so much room to improve.

**Special:** If there is a certain situation during the Cold War you wish me to cover (without digressing too much from Russia/China), please let me know!

* * *

_**Cold War Era (1945-1991)**_

_"From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. Behind that line lie all the capitals of the ancient states of Central and Eastern Europe. Warsaw, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Belgrade, Bucharest and Sofia, all these famous cities and the populations around them lie in what I must call the Soviet sphere, and all are subject in one form or another, not only to Soviet influence but to a very high and, in some cases, increasing measure of control from Moscow."_

* * *

_6. 1945-1949; the Beginnings of the Cold War_

Alfred was an idiot. Truman was a useless prick. "What is wrong with their people?" I sighed. "Personally, I think they're over-reacting." I buried my face in Yao's neck, feeling his hair around my face. "They need to give you a chance. You're better than all of them."

"Ivan," Yao pushed me off. "It's not a laughing matter."

"As though you aren't affected by their _anti-communism_ stand," I said flatly. "Some post-World War era we're building. Those _democratic_ people should sit down, stop talking, and see who's really at fault. Isn't that what democracy is all about?" I caught a smile as Yao turned around. "What?"

"You're worried, aren't you?" Yao said, smiling at me. "As you should. Ludwig almost killed you. You yourself almost collapsed. Alfred, Arthur, Francis, they're all not concerned about what you need -"

"I know exactly what they're thinking, Yao," I snapped angrily. "You don't have to tell me again. It's me they're worried about, not you. They think you're taking after me, but you're nothing like me." It wasn't fair that just because Yao picked communism over democracy he should not be given the respect he deserved. After all, he had been the one to fight back against Japan's invasion; he had stood up, each time he was felled, and here he was, stronger than before.

"Why do you think that?" I could see that he was annoyed now. "Hey, I chose this, alright? We've been through hell and survived, we'll be fine." Yao said firmly, slipping underneath my arm. "I think I should know best what I want, and who I am."

"Yeah, well, tell them that."

"You know politics don't work that way, Ivan."

Of course I knew, and it wasn't just any politics – it was what Alfred defined as right. Everything now revolved around him, and it made me so mad. What happened to the rest of us, the rest of us who never wanted to see another World War? Although, if violence was the only way to ensure my country's safety, so be it. That's how I would deal with it.

I didn't expect our old alliance to work in a post-war era, only not for my security concerns to be forgotten.

Yao's fingers interlocked themselves with mine, squeezing my hand gently.

…

I pulled him roughly towards me. "Gilbert," I breathed teasingly over his face. "Hello."

"What the fuck? I don't care if right now I'm under you, one day -"

"Your country no longer exists, Gilbert," I said cheerfully. "Those Western idiots don't give a crap about what happens to you anymore. They're more concerned over their precious _West Germany_... Your brother, you know?"

His protests were amusing, indeed. But when Alfred, Arthur and Francis had met to discuss the future of Germany, they certainly had conveniently forgotten all about a certain East region... Prussia, for example. If it was going to be the West against the East, so be it. Let it be known that Soviet Russia was not simply going to back down, and that we never have.

I threw him roughly down on the floor, hearing an 'oof!' escape from his body.

"Unfortunately, you're not a certain Wang Yao, so I have no interest in you except for pushing Alfred over the edge," I said easily, watching him glare up at me. "I don't really want you near me, but since you'll be useful in ensuring your brother doesn't come near me again, I'll be sticking around."

A string of expletives escaped from his mouth, and I wanted to laugh. _Oh Gilbert, I don't even know why you're under my charge. This... gaining more territory issue is just something Alfred is obsessed about, not me._

"Shut up," and I heard a howl of pain from Gilbert, as my foot connected with his face. "You're such an annoyance, no wonder Alfred would rather give you up than fight for your independence. He knew he wouldn't be able to deal with you, because he already has me to deal with."

Gilbert clutched his nose gingerly, his eyes narrowed hatefully at me. I smiled at him, and he started cursing at me. "You fucking asshole! You broke my damn nose! What the fuck is wrong with you?" He lunged towards me, his blood getting all over my body. _That's annoying, alright._

"It's just a nose. If it hurts so much, cut it off. No wonder Alfred chose Ludwig over you, you're such a wimp." The dripping blood from his nose was distracting, as I watched each drop fall onto my scarf. I pushed him roughly away. _Get off me_.

"Well, yeah? I'm not a pushover like Poland was, I'm Gilbert-" his boast turned into a scream, as I drew my pistol, and shot him through his thigh. I grabbed his roughly by the collar, pulling his crumpled body up to my face level.

"Listen, _Gilbert_, I don't give a damn who you were, and what you did. Right now, you don't even exist. So do me a favor, and just stay here, quietly, please," my voice was pleasant, and it sounded just like a request. Despite the obvious pain he must be feeling, Gilbert kept silent, his teeth gritted, averting my eyes, and he understood that it wasn't a request, but an order.

"I'll send someone to check on you," I said, pasting a smile back on my face. "I hope it didn't hurt too much."

…

I let my fingers crawl gently across the fading scar on my abdomen, remembering from years before how Ludwig had shot me in cold blood. It didn't mean much – he knew I would have done the same should I have been in the position he had been in. And he was right.

If that alliance hadn't worked so many years ago, why should any alliance with _the other Superpower_ work? Thinking about America made me want to break something, everything he did infuriated me, and I let him exploit that weakness. Ever since Alfred had found his strength, he had been interfering in _every_ issue, whether it concerns him or not. I knew he would not have been happy when the Soviet Union was declared communist, the world's first communist state. _But why should he even care? _I let out a hiss. It's not like Soviet communism was perfect, there were many apsects of what Stalin did that made me wish I could kill him, but despite that, how can Alfred claim his _democracy_ was perfect when he spent all his time poking his nose where it should not be in?

I opened the door, letting my eyes adjust in the dim light. I could just barely make out the curled up figure on the bed.

And his new boss, _what was his name again? Truman...? I think?_, was a useless prick. At least, with Roosevelt, he had bothered to acknowledge our existence. Closing the door quietly, I slipped in next to the still figure, placing a gentle kiss on the exposed neck. Yao sat up in alarm, his fright etched onto his beautiful features, only relaxing a little when I smiled at him. _That was fun._

"Don't do that!" he half-yelled. "Not when people are sleeping!" He shoved against me. "Stop smiling, it creeps me out. It makes me think that you're going to do something to me."

"Do you want me to?" I asked, innocently, trying to hide a smirk. "I'm very good at what I do."

Yao rolled his eyes, and pulled the blankets back over his body. "Get lost, I want to sleep. I have things to do in the morning, as do you." His body froze as he looked at his hand. "Ivan, are you bleeding?"

"Huh?" I was confused at his question. "No, I'm no- Oh, oh." I took his hand, stained with blood.

"Oh? What kind of answer is that?" Yao sounded exasperated. "It's a lot of blood. What the hell, let me see!"

"It's my scarf, Yao," I said, holding him back. "It's not my blood. " Yao would not be happy. "…It's Gilbert's."

"W-What? Are you crazy? Did you kill him? Why is there so much blood?"

"Gilbert, Prussia, you know? I probably am. No I didn't. I shot him in the leg," I answered amiably. Yao was so agitated, and it was pretty adorable, until he started inching away from me.

"You scare me," he said bluntly. "You don't go shooting people like that..."

"I would point you towards the cruelty of your country's history, Yao, but I think should know it better than I do," I said, my voice icy. "You are not exactly in a position to judge me."

"Unless it means exacerbating this stupid war between you and Alfred!" Yao yelled angrily. "I don't want another war, okay? What's this between East and West, it's bullshit. There's no use in separating Gilbert and Ludwig, even if you want revenge. Isn't this revenge enough? He's no longer a threat to you-"

"No longer a threat? Are you blind, Yao? He's a satellite of Alfred, Alfred who wants me dead!" I snapped angrily, and Yao retreated quickly away from me. I took a breath quickly, before smiling apologetically at him. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault. But I'm only doing this because Germany once invaded my country. I do not want to see that happen again." I reached outwards him, feeling him shiver under my touch. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, I understand," Yao said shakily. "Look, can we sleep? I'm really tired, and I'm sure you are."

"Can I sleep here?" I asked, turning begging eyes at him.

It was always nice to see Yao smile. It was something I always look forward to, because it just made me love him more, and it made me forget.

"Without that bloody scarf, sure." He patted the empty area next to him, before slipping back under his covers. I smiled to myself, before lying down next to him, placing an arm around his waist.

I already had what I wanted. I didn't want world domination, and I definitely didn't want to practice expansionism, I had no use for it. Right now, all I wanted was for Alfred to see reason, and that I only needed him to help me with my security. Yao curled up closer in my body, his hand gripping tightly onto my shirt, and I rested my chin on his head.

I could see the first snowflakes through the window against the moonlit sky.


End file.
